


Get the Groom

by Pronunciation_Hermy_One



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Carnival, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Sarcasm, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 15:43:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17921690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pronunciation_Hermy_One/pseuds/Pronunciation_Hermy_One
Summary: Draco Malfoy has no interest in being proposed to on Valentine's Day. He starts the day hiding from Harry, but soon wonders if he should be chasing him instead.





	Get the Groom

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the "Your Secret Admirer" Valentines Day Fic Exchange... but the bunny got away from me and was too long. <3
> 
> Only an M for language.

**February 14. 2010**

**4:58am**

The hour is ungodly early as he startles awake, silencing his alarm and rolling to his feet in one fell swoop. He glances toward the bed and smiles at the sight of messy locks peeking out the top of the blanket. Ever so quietly, he tiptoes toward the loo.

“Draco?”

It is a sleepy mumble, but he freezes instantly, listening as breathing resumes it’s steady rhythm until he is sure he is asleep. Draco doesn’t breathe again until the door clicks closed behind him and he is facing the mirror.

Nineteen hours, two minutes to go. “Mission: Avoid the Auror” was well underway toward being successful.

He runs the water and showers as quickly as he can.

“You can do this.” He mumbles, running the blade quickly across his chin.

His reflection smirks back at him.

“Shut it, you.” He hisses as his mirrored image holds up its hands in mock defense.

“I’ve said nothing!”

“I know what you’re thinking!” He grumbles as he rinses his razor in the water and runs a towel across his face.

“Oh, what’s that!” It’s pointing behind him, eyes wide and Draco jumps, looking behind him frantically. The mirror laughs.

“You’re not funny.”

“Says the man hiding from his boyfriend in the loo before sunrise?”

“I’m not hiding.”

“Skulking in the shadows in fear of Saint Valentine—”

“Oi, keep your voice down!” Draco hisses as the volume of his reflection increases.

“What pray tell happens if he wakes up?”

Draco scans the room quickly, brushing his teeth.

“You’re going to jump out that tiny window? In your bathrobe?” The mirror is cackling and he’s tempted to break it.

Rinsing his toothbrush, he flicks drops of water at the mirror. “You’re a right arse.”

“Coward.”

“Might I remind you, you are replaceable?”

“Can’t break me without waking him.”

“I can break you tomorrow.”

The mirror quiets quickly and Draco nods, shooting it a warning glance as he slips back out the door into the bedroom. Harry is still asleep, one arm hanging off the bed and the other tucked under his pillow. The blankets are pooled around his waist and Draco smiles, warring with himself. Under normal circumstances he’d jump right back into that bed with him, but today…

He can’t risk it. Draco grabs his clothes from the top of the bureau and tiptoes into the hall. It will be less noisy to dress out there.

The calendar on the wall catches his eye. There it is, haunting him: today’s date circled in a giant heart. Harry is about as subtle as a drunken cave troll, and Draco knows exactly what’s on his mind for today. He has no intentions of giving him the opportunity to succeed.

His eyes land on an envelope on the table, his name scrawled neatly on the front. He picks it up and flips it over in his fingers before tossing it back on the table. He heads to the floo. There is another envelope on the mantle. He curses.

“Please, just open it, my love.”

Not a chance in hell, Potter.

With a backwards glance at the empty room, he steps into the flames and is gone.

 

**7:03am**

“And he was definitely trying to avoid me?”

“Undoubtedly.” His reflection affirms.

“Good.” Harry chuckles, running a towel through his hair. “Very good. He should be at work now. I’ll send the owl and…”

He trails off, pausing before running into the kitchen. The envelope is still there, but lying upside down and unopened. Draco clearly chucked it there hastily before departing.

Harry can see him scowling in his mind’s eye and retraces Draco’s steps. He’d definitely seen the calendar on the wall weeks before, because he’d been edgy ever since. He’d obviously noticed the envelope this morning on the table before heading to leave. Yes, there it was, soot left on the floor in his haste.

“Predictable.” Harry laughs out loud before heading to get dressed.

“I shall send word if he returns.” The mirror calls as Harry heads back through the house. “You know he threatened to break me!”

“You’ll survive.”

The mirror is still muttering as Harry steps through the floo and lands sprawled on his face.

“Sorry about that, Harry!”

“For fuck’s sake, George.”

“Language.”

“Sorry, Angelina.”

“Where’s Ron?” Harry climbs back to his feet, glaring at the shiny spot in front of the floo.

“Floo Fall. Newest product. Makes for a hell of an entrance!”

“Genius.” Harry grumbles. “He isn’t here yet?” Panic rises in Harry’s voice as he scans the room.

“It’s not quite nine, I’m sure he’ll be here shortly.”

“Do you have everything ready?”

“Angelina’s been over your checklist twice. I’ve got it all, Harry.”

“And you won’t be late?”

“What time was it supposed to be agai—”

“He’ll be right on time.” Angelina interrupts George, sending him a scathing look. “Do not harass Harry, George. He has quite enough going on without you taking the mickey out of him.”

“I was just—”

“It’s no laughing matter, George. Harry has worked very hard on this, leave him be.”

Harry’s palms are sweaty and he rubs them on his robes.

“What if he says no?” George winks as he turns back to Harry.

“George!” Angelina chucks a Fanged Frisbee at his head.

“Oi!” George ducks only just in time and whirls around in genuine surprise. “Nice aim, love! You nearly had me!”

“He won’t say no.” Harry shakes his head, chuckling. “Not if all goes according to plan.”

“It will.” Ron smiles, coming down the stairs two at a time.

“Do you have it?”

“Yes. Took a bit longer than expected. It was bloody cold there this morn—”

“Good.” Harry interrupts him, looking around the room. “Everyone is ready?”

“Aye, aye, Captain! All ready.” George salutes and Ron sniggers behind his hand as Angelina rolls her eyes.

“Let’s get your groom, Potter.”

Harry smiles despite himself. Operation “Get the Groom” is officially underway.

 

**11:31am**

No owl. No floo call. No surprise visits.

Draco is absolutely certain Harry must be awake and at work by now. He worries for a brief minute. Harry always checks in if Draco isn’t there when he awakens.

An alarm pierces the air and Draco takes off. He enters the room at a dead run, skidding to a halt in front of the head medi-witch.

“What’s going on, Bethesda?”

“60 year old male, he’s got his fingers stuck in some muggle contraption. The harder we pull, the tighter it locks him in.”

“It’s called a Chinese Finger Trap!”

Draco whirls around and sees the man lying in the bed before them. “Arthur?”

“Draco!”

He clears his throat. “What the hell, Arthur? Does Molly know where you are?”

Arthur blushes to his ears, turning an unholy shade of red. Draco rolls his eyes so hard they hurt as he is assaulted by memories of the man’s youngest son approximating the same shade.

“Where’d you get this?”

“House raid?”

“Are you asking me?”

“No?”

Draco purses his lips. “Is this George’s doing?”

“Who?” He is staring at the ceiling in poorly feigned confusion.

“Geor— nevermind. This is simple enough. Harry brought one home from the muggle fair when he took me on our first date.”

“You can save my fingers?”

Draco is fairly certain not even a Weasley is this stupid. “Push them together.”

“What?”

“Your fingers. Push them toward one another.”

“Further? I might never get them back! Molly will be so angry…”

“Are you daf—” Draco swallows when Bethesda cocks an eyebrow his direction. “Nonsense, Mr. Weasley. It’s perfectly safe. I assure you.”

Arthur smiles in what Draco believes to be the most farcely appreciative way he’s ever seen, presses his fingers toward one another and then pops them out with a flourish. “You’re a genius!”

“Yes, 8 years of schooling for this.” Draco drawls, leaning against the wall.

Arthur is staring at the ceiling and wiggling his fingers in apparent awe at their existence.

“You saved my life, Draco.”

“My pleasure.” Draco scowls as he walks toward the door.

When he returns to his desk there is an owl sitting there. Draco’s eyes narrow as he looks at the scroll attached to its leg.

“No.”

The bird hoots curiously and nudges him with its beak.

“No. Shoo.”

It snaps its beak, eyes glinting and hops closer to him. Draco waves his hand at it and pushes his chair back from the desk.

“Absolutely not. Go away!”

The owl hops to the edge of the desk and extends its leg imploringly.

“Those sad eyes won’t work on me.” Draco turns to leave the room.

The owl attacks. Draco is not sure exactly what has happened, but he find himself running in circles around his office, arms flailing against flapping wings.

“You mad beast! I don’t want your letter!”

Talons graze his shoulder and a beak snaps at his ear. It is not a gesture of love.

“No! I won’t take it!” Draco trips and plows into a shelf at the end of his office. Books tumble to the floor, raining down upon his head as he scrambles back to his feet.

“You’re so fired. You are going to lose your job, bird!”

The owl dives at him and Draco trips over his own feet as he scrambles forward, sliding across the floor and coming to rest in front of the door as it swings open.

“Have you lost your bloomin’ mind?”

Draco is cowering on the ground, arms wrapped protectively around his head when Bethesda walks in. The bird comes to rest on her shoulder.

“It— it attacked!”

She looks at the bird perched upon her shoulder, currently nuzzling her ear. “He’s positively terrifying.”

Draco splutters, rising to his feet and rubbing his temple.

“You’re bleeding.”

“It attacked me! I told you! Don’t take that—“

But it is too late; she’s already taken the parchment. The owl leaves immediately.

“Is there a reason you are ignoring Mr. Potter?”

“Yes.”

“On Valentines Day?”

“Yes.”

“And that reason might be…”

Draco is silent.

“Fine.”

He looks up, his eyes widening in alarm. “Don’t open that!”

He’s too late and she reads the parchment, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Take this and then get that eye mended.”

“I don’t want to.”

She reads aloud. “Mr. Potter has been called away on a mission, unsure as to when he will return.”

Draco blinks. “That’s it?”

She holds the letter out to him. He looks at it suspiciously.

“No… I love you?”

She shakes her head. “He didn’t write it.”

Draco snatches the envelope from her hand and reads.

“Mr. Potter has been called away on a mission. Unsure as to when he will return.

—T. Davis”

“He… he didn’t write it.”

“You’re still bleeding.”

“He had his secretary send it.”

“Full day of patients, we need to get a move on.”

“I didn’t say goodbye. This morning. I snuck out.”

“We need to fix your face.”

“I didn’t kiss him.”

“You’re now dripping blood on the carpet.”

“I didn’t tell him I love him.”

“Are you quarreling?”

“No.”

“Then quit wringing your hands like some lovestruck teenager and get cleaned up.”

“I don’t think we’re quarreling…”

Draco is wracking his brain. Has Harry really forgotten what today is? Did Draco misread the signs? Did the heart circled around today’s date mean something else?

He follows Bethesda mindlessly from patient room to patient room, wordlessly examining patients and tending to injuries and maladies as his mind whirs.

Why hadn’t Harry attempted to contact him before work? He’d successfully avoided Harry last night before bed. What if something had happened? Were they fighting and Draco hadn’t realized?

He lays his wand down and jots a few notes in a chart, nodding as Bethesda hands the patient a potion.

Perhaps Harry is leaving him? His stomach twists and he feels nauseous. Does he believe Draco so opposed to marriage he’s given up entirely? The circle wasn’t for a proposal. It was to mark the day Harry leaves...

But why was Tracy sending him post?

His heart stops cold.

“What if it’s dangerous?” He blurts out as he and Bethesda make their way into the lounge.

“What?”

“Harry’s mission is so dangerous and last minute he couldn’t tell me, they sent him before he could contact me…”

She stares at him while taking a bite of her soup. “Does that seem likely? Eat your food.”

Draco is staring at the sandwich before him.

“I don’t like it.”

“You never do. Why don’t you order something else?”

He ignores her. “Or, he’s leaving me. But, no… Something happened to him, but it’s too secret, and they can’t tell me. It’s confidential, so they’re covering it up, telling me he’s on a mission.That’s it. Harry is dead. Harry died and I spent our last weeks avoiding him.”

“I’m going to slap you now.”

“What a right fucking twat I am. And I loved him. I really loved him!”

“You love him, idiot. Just call over there and put us both out of this misery, will you?”

Draco nods, walking quickly to the floo.

“Ministry of Magic, Auror Department, Potter!” He shouts, tossing a handful of powder into the fireplace.

Tracy appears before him and Draco tries to peer around her. “Where’s Harry?”

“Mr. Malfoy! I sent you an owl. Auror Potter is unavailable.”

“Where is he?”

“Classified.”

“When will he be back?”

“Unknown.”

“Let me speak to Ron.”

“Mr. Weasley is also unavailable.”

Draco pales. “Tracy, where is he?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I cannot give you any further details.”

Draco’s jaw twitches. He stares at her. “Is he refusing my call or is he unable?”

Tracy stares back at him.

“I’m taking you off the Christmas Card list, Davis.”

She nods. “Yes, sir.”

Draco swears before withdrawing his head from the fireplace and turning to Bethesda.

“I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

“I thought you didn’t celebrate Valentine's Day.”

“I might be in mourning.”

“This is ridiculous even for you, Malfoy.”

“I need to find my husband.”

“Husband?”

“Yeah.” He stares at her. “If that man’s alive, I’m going to marry him before I return. Right after I murder him.”

 

**2:57pm**

“Next!” An older man with salt and pepper hair and a mustache to rival his Uncle Vernon’s shouts over the counter. His eyes are more cheerful than Vernon’s had been though.

“What’ll you have?”

“Oh, yes, thanks. I need a turkey, provolone and bacon on half sourdough and half pumpernickel. The sourdough needs to be the top slice with mayo and the pumpernickel needs to have only a faint shmear of dijon, please.”

The man furrows his brows, blinking once before writing furiously.

“Now, the turkey should be between the slices of provolone so as not to touch the bread. And he likes lettuce, but only iceberg, and tomatoes, but only one, thinly sliced, cut into quarters. Please hide one pickle and half an olive between the turkey and provolone, not touching any other vegetables.”

“Anything else?”

 “Yes, please cut it into four triangles.”

“Four... triangles?”

“Yes, please.”

“Acute or...”

“Right triangles are fine.”

The man nods and sets down his pen. “Quite a sandwich.”

“Quite a man.” Harry grins as the man behind the counter turns to begin making it.

“Oh! I don’t want you to make it yet. Please, just keep this order and when this man,” he hands him a photograph “comes in later, make it for him. Please.”

“Come again?”

“Just as I’ve described, please.”

“He can’t order it himself?”

“He won’t.”

The man stares at him for a moment, chewing his upper lip before shaking his head, a grin lifting his cheeks. “Fine. You’ll have to pay now, though.”

Harry smiles. “Absolutely.”

“You sure he’s worth it?”

“What?”

“It’s just, in my experience, someone this particular about their sandwich sets a high bar.”

“Discerning, I think you mean.”

The man laughs. “You’ve got it bad.”

Harry winks. “He’s worth it all.”

“You’ve got it, mate.”

“Thank you!” Harry waves as he dashes out the door, taking off down the street.

9:55pm

Draco has now been walking the streets of Muggle London for five hours. He’s cold, wet and anxious. He’s fairly certain Harry isn’t dead, but even more convinced Harry has left him. He wants to throw up.

He’d gone to the ministry first, but Tracy was impenetrable. He’d headed home next, but it was empty. The envelopes were gone. Was it a goodbye letter? Harry must’ve been so irritated he hadn’t even read it before leaving that morning.

It had caught his eye as he walked toward the door. Just a scrap of paper rolled up, barely missing the bin. An address scrawled hastily above a note “Live today for you.”

Obviously, Harry’s advice to himself as he prepared to leave Draco. Well, not without a fucking fight, Potter.

And so he’s been walking around London. He’d misread the map, ended up on the wrong side of town, had not brought any muggle money, and was now finally at the correct address.

A deli. The address is to a fucking deli. Draco swears.

A man appears in the doorway to flip the sign to closed.

“Didn’t think you’d be coming. We close at 10.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on in. I’ll make your sandwich. Hurry up, it’s cold out here.”

Draco follows him inside, his feet traipsing haltingly. He’s hungry. He supposes he should eat, anyway.

The man ducks behind the counter and Draco says “Whatever is easiest, please.”

The man snorts and sets to work. Draco’s mouth falls open as he watches him pull a loaf each of pumpernickel and sourdough from the shelf before spreading mayonnaise and dijon exactly as he’d order… if he wasn’t so afraid of being a pain in the arse.

“How did you—”

Draco interrupts himself with a gasp as the man tucks half an olive between the turkey and cheese. He stares open mouthed as he slices it into four even triangles and places it into a carry out box.

“Who ordered this?”

The man shrugs. “Some bloke.”

Draco’s head whips around, scanning the empty delicatessen.

“Earlier. Gave me this picture so I’d recognize you. Paid and then left. I’d about given up.”

Draco took the photo with shaking hands, a smile spreading across his face. He and Harry on the Ferris Wheel, bright lights spinning behind their heads. “The fair… our first date. He— what time was he here?”

“Around 3?”

That was hours ago.

“You two going to the fair tonight?”

“The fair?”

The man pointed out the door and around the corner. “The fair.”

Draco nods, taking the sandwich in his hands. “Thank— thank you, sir.”

“He really loves you.”

“You could tell?”

“Anyone who would remember that, let alone order it…” He points to the box in Draco’s hands.

He blushes. “It’s why I don’t order it.”

The man laughs. “You should. You love it. Hold onto the things you love. Even if they’re inconvenient. Live for them. Live for you.”

Draco pauses. “Did he say anything else?”

The man stares at him intently for a moment before speaking. “That you’re worth it.”

Deep breaths. His eyes are stinging as he makes his way around the corner toward the lights in the distance. He takes a bite of the sandwich, smiling around the mouthful. It’s delicious, and he laughs as he thinks of Harry ordering it.

 

**10:16pm**

“He’s there, Harry. They’re making it now.”

Harry is staring down the midway, bright lights flashing and the sounds of laughter all around him.

“I doubt he ate all day. He’ll be hungry.”

“You really love him, don’t you?”

“I really do, Ron.”

“He’ll be here soon, Harry. Come on.”

He’s frozen still, the carnival lights glazing and blurring before him as he remembers that night. They’d been absolutely pissed, tripping over one another, up the front stairs and banging into walls on their way into Harry’s flat.

“Shhhh.” Sloppy kisses pressed against his mouth. “You’ll wake my neighbors.”

“We should’ve gone to my place.” Draco had whined.

“Apparate? You can’t even walk.” Harry pointed a finger into his face, stumbling, hands splayed against his chest. The door swung open and they landed in a heap on the floor.

“I’m hungry.” Draco breathed between urgent kisses.

“There’s a deli downstairs. Twenty-four hours. I can order up.”

“Tuna on rye.” Draco called as he stumbled to his feet and into the loo, turning on the shower.

“No.” Harry knew that was absurd. He’d never eat it.

“No?” He could hear Draco over the noise of the water.

“No. You don’t ever eat it.” He called, getting to his feet and walking toward Draco’s voice.

“Roast beef, then.” Draco shouted through the door.

“You don’t eat that either, Draco.

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

Harry was peering at him through the water now. “You hate ham. Draco. Do you even like sandwiches?”

He’d nodded, slowly, through wet lashes. “I don’t want to be a pain, Harry. I’m good with anything.”

“Draco—”

“Really. Anything.”

Draco—”

“Forget it. I’m not hungry, anymore.”

“Draco—”

“What?!” Draco had roared and Harry stepped back.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Harry. I just. It’s not about the fucking sandwich. I just don’t want to be a pain.”

“Draco. Please. I want to know these things about you.”

“These things aren’t important. They’re not worth knowing.”

“You’re worried about inconveniencing me with a fucking sandwich order?”

“Leave it alone.”

“I want to know everything!”

“It’s just a fucking sandwich, Harry!”

“I just want to know who you are. You’re always fine with everything. No preferences. No opinions. You ask for nothing. Anything I want, you’re happy to be there, to give me. And I appreciate the sentiment, but I want to fucking know you! Every part of you!”

“I’m not worth knowing!” Draco had screamed and Harry had seen the shock on his face before he registered it on his own.

He was in the water with him then, arms around him as they sank to the ground. “It was all about me, Harry. For years. Everything was about me. Do you realize how sick I feel to know how selfish I was? How self centered, and how ugly that was? How hideous my heart was? I don’t want it to be about me anymore!”

“And now you spend your days devoting yourself to caring for others. Draco. You matter. You are worth it. I don’t want a fucking partner who just goes along with whatever I say. I want to know everything about you. Your wants, your desires. Your heart. Every part of you!”

“I’m still making up for the first 17 years, Harry.”

“Not by losing yourself, Draco. Not by hiding away everything that you care about.”

“It’s just a sandwich, Harry.”

“It’s the sandwich you want, Draco.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because,” Harry had murmured, hands in his hair, pulling him toward him. “Because I love you, Draco. Because you matter. Because you’re worth it.”

“Harry.” Harry jumped as Ron’s hand descends upon his shoulder. “Harry, he’s here.”

“George is ready. He’s coming in. Let’s move, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry echoes, staring into the distance. “Let’s go.”

 

**10:39pm**

Draco can make out the rides, sounds of laughter and people yelling, giggling in the distance.

He walks up to the ticket booth and stands in line, gazing around at the crowd. “One, please.”

“Ah, there you are.” He looks up when a woman’s voice laughs, taking a ticket from her outstretched hand.

“Excuse me?”

She hands him a photograph. “Already paid for. You’ll need these too, love.” She hands him a fistful of tickets for the midway.

“What am I supposed to…” Draco trails off as he flips the photograph over in his hand. Draco had taken it, another memory from their first date. Harry is tossing a ring at a stack of empty milk bottles. Draco refused to play, instead playing with the muggle camera Harry had brought along.

“Thank you.” He murmurs over his shoulder, smiling as he walks through the gates.

“Step right up! Try your hand!”

Draco’s gaze flits from side to side as he weaves his way between the booths, looking for Harry.

“This way, sir! Over here!”

Draco smiles, shaking his head as he continues on. The sounds, the crowd, the games and rides mingle on the air as he surveys the crowd for Harry.

“Step right up. Try your luck!” Another voice shouts near his head, and Draco steps to the side to avoid him.

“Oi, Malfoy. Try this one!”

He whips around and his eyes narrow as he sees George Weasley standing in front of a booth wearing the most ridiculous hat he’s ever seen.

“Weasley.”

“Draco.”

“Nice hat.”

“Care to play?”

“No, thanks. Where’s Harry?”

“Who?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I played this game with your father this morning.”

“Try your luck?”

Draco stares at the milk bottles lined up behind George.

“Sounds like a terrible way to celebrate Valentine's Day.”

“It’s nearly midnight. Barely Valentine’s Day, Malfoy.”

“What if I win?”

“You get a prize.”

“Harry?”

“Not allowed to give away people, Malfoy. Even the Muggles have standards.”

Draco finds himself laughing out loud. “Fine, I’ll play, George.”

“That’ll be three tickets.”

Draco hands over the tickets and sidles up to the booth. He looks side to side and surreptitiously reaches for his wand.

“No, Malfoy.”

“What?”

“No magic.”

“I can’t possibly do this without magic.”

“It’s the rules.” George shrugs.

“Fine.” Draco grumbles and reaches for the rings. He tosses them through the air and watches, his lips pursed as they plummet to the ground.

“Shit luck. Try again?”

Draco nods.

“Three more tickets.”

Draco hands them over and tries again.

“Closer.”

“Barely.” He grumbles and hands George another three tickets. Planting his feet, he bends his knees and squares his shoulders.

“Be the bottle, Draco.”

“Shhhh. I’m concentrating.”

“You know, you weren’t bad at quidditch. Thought you’d be better at this.”

“Weasley, would you shut up.”

“No, really. Harry talks about it all the time. Ooooh, Draco, so talented.”

“I was a seeker, George.”

“Interesting. A bit slow for a seeker, aren’t you?”

Draco chucks a ring at his head.

“Might’ve made a decent beater.”

“Give me another go.”

“Last three tickets, mate.”

Draco blinks as he hands them to George and realizes all of his tickets are gone.

“I’ll buy more.”

“Ooooh, do you have any money?”

“No.”

“Tickets cost money, Malfoy.”

“Lend me some.”

“No can do, Draco. Bad for business to pay for the customers. You’ll need to win fair and square.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “I’ve been playing for over an hour, Weasley. I haven’t hit a bottle yet.”

“Rotten luck, mate. Last try.”

Draco finds that he is nervous, sweating even as he holds the ring in his hand and lines up with the bottle.

He tosses the ring and it misses.

Swearing, he lines himself up again. The ring flies from his fingers, circling the neck of the bottle before sliding to the ground below the table.

“So close!” George cheers.

Draco’s heart is pounding in his head as he looks at the last ring in his hand. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as his arm winds backward. His shoulder rotates and then his fingers are opening and it is flying through the air. He opens his eyes just in time to see George’s wand hand flick and the ring settle atop the closest milk bottle.

“Look at that, you’re a winner!”

“You did that.”

“I did no such thing.”

“I watched you!”

“Think I’d have made you a bigger winner. 25 points, mate. Fairly pathetic.”

“George.”

“Consolation prize.” George is holding out a small box, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Go on. Take it and move along, I’ve a line of people behind you. Don’t want to get fired on my first day, Malfoy.”

Draco takes it, holding the box in one hand and his half eaten sandwich in the other.

“What’s this?”

“Go on. Stop blocking my queue, Malfoy! Don’t want anyone else jealous they don’t get the same prize. Move along!”

Draco rolls his eyes and heads away from the stall. It is nearly midnight, on Valentine’s Day, and he hasn’t seen Harry yet. He has no one but himself to blame, but it stings nonetheless. Holidays are important to Harry, and he was selfish to ignore that. Again.

He moves to open the box, but then he’s being shunted along with the crowd and afraid he’ll drop it. He shoves it into his coat pocket and looks for an escape from the horde of people. He realizes they’re in a queue now, packed so tightly he can barely lift his arms.

“Excuse me.” He’s trying to step around the people behind him, to leave the line and find Harry. They ignore him, pushing him forward. “Angelina?”

“Keep walking, Draco.”

“I— I uh, I don’t want to ride this. I need to find Harry.”

She simply smiles, eyes gazing straight ahead.

“Next!”

Draco blinks and realizes he’s standing at the front of the line.

“Weasley?”

“Where’s your ticket?”

“What ticket?”

“For the Ferris wheel.” He jerks his thumb behind him.

“I’m looking for Harry. I don’t want to ride it.”

“No can do, mate. Didn't you look at your prize?”

“Oh.” Draco is fumbling with the box in his pocket. “No, I— it was too crowded and I—.”

“You’re holding everyone up. Open it.”

Draco’s fingers close around the box as he huffs. “Give me just a second, Ron.”

The box is light, a rectangle about the length of his finger and not much wider. Inside lays a single ride ticket and, he grins, teeth sucking into his bottom lip, a green Chinese finger trap.

“That’s the ticket!” Ron is pushing him forward into the bucket car and sliding the door closed behind him.

“Weasley! Wait! Where’s Harry?”

A sudden explosion of fireworks is surrounding them as the Ferris wheel begins. Draco looks wildly out the window. It’s midnight. He missed it. He missed all of Valentine’s Day. He missed Harry.

“Put it on.”

Draco whips around to look at the other side of the bucket.

“Harry!”

“Put it on, Draco.”

“I’m so sorry. I know today was important to you, and I’ve ruined it all. It was so selfish and so stupid. I shouldn’t have run out this morning. I shouldn’t have ignored your envelopes.”

“Draco, put it on.”

“I thought you were hurt or dead. And then I thought you were leaving me. I really thought… I thought I’d finally mucked it up for good. Even the savior of the wizarding world only has so much patience. And you think I’m uninterested in marriage. Or you. Or us. But none of it’s true. I love you. I want to continue proving that to you for the rest of our lives. I don’t want to pull away. I want to marry you, Harry. So you can’t leave. I’m going to fight for you. I don’t want this to end. I—”

Harry is reaching forward and suddenly the toy prize is in his palm and he’s so close to him, Draco can barely breathe as the panic and exhaustion of the day descends on him.

“It’s not Valentine's Day any longer, Draco. It’s after midnight. Put. It. On.”

“Okay! Fine. But, are you listening to me, Harry!” Draco takes the trap and jams it onto his finger. “There! Are you happy? Will you—”

Draco gasps as Harry reaches over and suddenly they’re wearing it on their fingers together. He pulls away and finds their hands firmly bound.

“We’re stuck.”

Harry is staring at him, eyes dancings with merriment. “It’s supposed to be symbolic.”

“Now we’re stuck?”

“Well, yes. I’m not leaving you, Draco.”

“You’re… stuck with me?”

“I want to be with you. Bound to you. For life.”

Draco is silent.

“Even when you pull away, I’ll stay.”

“But… Valentine’s Day is important to you.”

He shrugs. “So are you. And you didn’t want to get engaged then. I understand.”

“But Valentine’s Day is over.”

“Yes.”

“And I want to.”

“You want to what?”

“Marry you.”

“Good.” Harry is laughing. “Then push forward. Release it.”

“So sappy.” Draco rolls his eyes, bringing their fingers together. He gasps as the trap disappears, shrinking from the middle toward each of their fingers.

“Harry— how… how did you get this?” He’s staring at his hand, holding it into the air. The gold band glints in the colorful blinking lights cast by the fireworks and carnival lights.

“Your dad.”

“You saw him?”

“Yes.”

“In Azkaban?”

“Pulled a few strings. Asked his permission.”

“You asked my father’s permission?”

“Of course. Tradition is important to you.”

“This is not exactly a traditional relationship.”

“You’re worth it.”

“You went to Azkaban and asked my father’s permission to marry me, and arranged all of this?”

Harry nodded. “Is that a yes?”

The Ferris wheel has come to a halt now, Ron is opening the door and they’re exiting the ride. The lights and magic, rides and faceless people begin to fade, dissipating in tiny bursts of magic around them. Ron trots off, disappearing into the dark with Angelina and George.

“You— you did all of this?”

“George helped. Ron helped. Angelina helped. But, yes.”

“An entire fair?”

“Carnival in a Can. A new product George created.” He laughs. “This was the test run.”

“It’s fabulous.” He’s staring around, and realizes they’re in an empty lot now. The ground is wet and the air is cold. He turns toward Harry, glancing from the ring on his finger, back to his face.

“Draco?”

“Yes. Yes, Harry. The answer is yes.” He intertwines their fingers as they walk back toward the sidewalk, kissing his knuckles chastely.

“Let’s go home, Harry.” He wraps an arm around his shoulders. “And while we walk, I’m going to finish this.” He laughs, opening the takeaway container and eating another bite.

An after Valentine’s proposal, his favorite sandwich and a man who thinks he worth it.

“You’ve got yourself a groom, Potter.”

Harry laughs and Draco leans in to kiss him.

“I do.”


End file.
